


c'mon baby let's improvise

by past piginawig (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-03
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 04:39:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/581392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/past%20piginawig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>he's got quite a few in his head, these perfect alternate universes where he and harry are out and open with their love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	c'mon baby let's improvise

**Author's Note:**

> i was prompted with the song ‘stuck in the moment’ by bieber and did my best with it. the title is from ‘two rebels’ by honor society.

it’s not easy but through the months, they’ve gotten better. better at hiding. better at pretending. they love their life. the fame, the performances, the awards, the people; it’s something they’ll never get used to. but there’s a price for the dream career, and louis and harry discovered this rather quickly.   
  
sometimes, when louis is spending time with eleanor and being followed by large cameras, he imagines all the different ways he and harry could be together. the different worlds in which it wouldn’t be a bad thing for them to be together - places where their lives wouldn’t be ruined if their relationship was exposed.  
  
he’s got quite a few in his head, these perfect alternate universes where he and harry are out and open with their love, worlds where they’re-  
  
they’re neighbors. harry’s fifteen and louis’ seventeen, and harry has the biggest crush. the tomlinson family moved in when harry was ten and louis was twelve and they played outside together sometimes until louis moved up to the bigger school and harry didn’t. then harry only saw him in passing, glimpses of spiky hair and a football out of the corner of his eye.  
  
but when harry’s fifteen and louis’ seventeen, louis’ dad (“ _step-_ dad,” he’ll spit out bitterly) leaves and his mum is wrecked. suddenly she’s got five kids and one job and an entire mortgage with bills and there’s so many mouths to feed and she hates turning to other people for help but she doesn’t have to because anne is there.  
  
anne, who she has barely spoken to in years, when louis would play football with her lovely but uncoordinated son in the yard, is there at her doorstep with a huge smile and a huge casserole and two dark-headed helpers on her either side.  
  
in no time, it becomes tradition for anne to pick up the tomlinson girls from the primary school while louis and harry walk together from the secondary school; everyone ends up in the cox-styles home until jay returns from work at six, already having eaten at the cafeteria at the hospital, and her children already fed right alongside the styles’.  
  
on the weekends sometimes, jay brings her kids to anne’s house and shoos them off to the backyard to play, telling harry and louis to keep an eye on the girls. then she sits on the couch and rests her head on anne’s shoulder and cries.  
  
it only lasts six months like that (although it doesn’t feel like  _only_  to anyone). jay gets a big promotion because of all the extra hours she’s put in and gets a day shift and her own office and, most importantly, a pay-raise.   
  
the day she finds out, she calls anne to let her know, asking a favor. she leaves early and makes it in time for dinner, and she pretends not to notice the proud tears shining in her son’s eyes when she makes the announcement.  
  
it’s two months of being picked up by his mum and spending the afternoons and weekends at his own house before louis cracks and marches up to the front door of his neighbor’s house.  
  
harry answers and grins, inviting louis up to his room.  
  
“‘s weird not spending every day with you,” louis says, once they’re both sat on harry’s bed. “i didn’t think- i didn’t expect to miss you, really.”  
  
harry blushes and louis knows it’s because of the crush.   
  
“miss you, too, lou,” he mumbles back around the smile he can’t seem to wipe off his face.  
  
“it’s funny, ‘cause, even when we were younger and playing footie in the yard,” louis says, and he can’t keep eye contact with harry when he says it, “i always knew you had a crush on me. mum always joked about it and i could tell when you blushed and stuttered and i just- you were younger and i thought i was high and mighty and in secondary school, it meant i had to look at it only as a cute little crush on the big kid next door.”  
  
harry’s staring resolutely at his hands, twisting his long fingers together tightly and wishing the bedspread would just eat him up.  
  
“but then we spent the last six months attached at the hip, practically. and i knew it was still there,” louis sighs, “your crush was still there and it was the same except… ‘cept now you weren’t just a kid in primary school. you were. you were like this whole new person, like with funny jokes and a good laugh and these  _legs_  and your eyes and like, you have such pretty lips, and i didn’t know what to do. because it was okay when you were little and i was big, right? but now we’re both older, we’re kind of on an even playing field and i.”  
  
harry doesn’t breathe.  
  
“i didn’t expect to like you so much.”  
  
harry lets out a mix between a laugh and a cry and then louis asks, “i was wondering if it would be okay if i kissed you?” and harry really can’t find it in him to say no-  
  
harry really can’t find it in him to say no this time. he’s turned down so many of management’s choices of girls that things are getting tense, and he’s pretty sure the sudden explosion of dates louis’ had to go on with eleanor lately have something to do with it. so he sighs and agrees, because he’s had a crush on caroline since he saw her, and a few public outings and magazine articles won’t kill him. he’ll get to spend time with nick, as well (even though no one will write about  _that_ ), and caroline, the few times he’s met her, has been absolutely lovely, so it can’t be a horrible time.  
  
when the night comes, and the car arrives at the flat he shares with louis, harry bites his lip hard. he turns to look at louis, who looks resigned but hopeful (hopeful that maybe,  _finally_  some of the rumors will go away, and they won’t have to try quite so hard anymore), and feels wetness in his eyes.  
  
“i don’t wanna do this, lou,” he whispers. and suddenly there are strong arms wrapped around him, and he’s pressed against the only body he ever wants to know. “why is it so awful that i just wanna love you?”  
  
and he hears the shaky sigh that louis releases and he feels bad, but then louis’ voice is soft and sure in his ear. “if you’re out tonight, and you start to feel lonely, or bored, or scared, or-”  
  
“-if i miss you?” harry cuts in, and louis sighs softly.  
  
“yeah, if you miss me,” he agrees, “then make up a nice world where you and me are allowed to be together.”  
  
harry pulls back, eyebrows furrowed.  
  
“‘s what i do, when i’m with eleanor. things like… if we were at hogwarts, and i’m the slythern star chaser and you’re the quirky ravenclaw, and we’re potions partners and at first i don’t understand you at all. then slowly but surely you crawl under my skin and decide to stay there, and because you’re so damn cute i realize i don’t really mind it.”  
  
harry smiles and his dimple appears, and louis pokes at it. harry bats his hand away.  
  
“what about where you’re a hot and famous football player-” harry says, grinning, picturing louis in cleats and a jersey with the number seventeen-  
  
a jersey with the number seventeen flashes in harry’s peripheral vision and he tightens his grip on the small digital recorder in his hand. he pushes through throngs of people and reaches the man with the name ‘tomlinson’ etched across his back and roughly taps his shoulder.  
  
the man flinches and keeps walking, his steps gaining speed.  
  
“mr tomlinson,” harry says, though his voice is drowned out by the noise surrounding them. he continues chasing after the man and gets close enough to tap his shoulder again right as he’s about to enter the locker rooms. the man spins around and glares.  
  
“uh, mr tomlinson, i’m harry styles from-”  
  
“okay, i don’t give two shits who you are, kid,” the man snarls, “but if you’re important enough to have gotten a press pass then you should know by now-”  
  
another man cuts in between then, blocking harry’s view. he notices the locker room door swing open and close again. harry looks up at the large, bulky man in front of him. “sorry, sir, but louis and his teammates don’t like doing interviews before games.”  
  
harry nods and turns around. he stuffs the press pass he’d nicked from gemma’s boyfriend, an actual sports reporter for an actual sports radio station, in his pocket and turns off his recorder. he slumps all the way back to his car, all the while thinking about how fucking  _pretty_  louis tomlinson was, even when he was angry.  
  
when harry gets home he’s greeted with a glaring niall, so he hands over the press pass wordlessly and trudges up to his room, sighing at the assortment of louis tomlinson posters on his wall.  
  
it’s the next month and harry’s taken down his posters and stopped watching football games. he met louis tomlinson, touched louis tomlinson, spoke to louis tomlinson, and that should be enough.  
  
he’s barely managed to convince himself of that when niall and gemma walk in holding hands and niall’s got a huge grin on his face that perks harry up.  
  
“guess who’s interviewing at the station tomorrow morning,” he says, and harry’s heart pounds. “louis fuckin’ tomlinson!”  
  
and gemma elbows him for his language but harry is busy choking on his jealousy.  
  
“i know you’re a huge fan, harry,” niall says, “so you can come to work with me tomorrow. just gotta promise not to mess with anything.”  
  
harry chokes and agrees, but then a thought hits him. “um.”  
  
niall raises an eyebrow. “can we tell him i’m an intern or something? i kinda… when i took your pass. i maybe attempted to interview him?”  
  
niall chokes.  
  
“yeah, harry,” he mutters, rolling his eyes, “you can pretend to be an intern. you’ll end up one at the end of the semester anyway.”  
  
harry tells niall not to jinx it but smiles anyway.  
  
harry is a mess of nerves the next morning, twitching the whole way to the station and then twitching more in his seat while they wait for louis to arrive.  
  
when he does get there, he shakes niall’s hand, then he shakes the hands of the producers, and finally he turns to harry.  
  
“well,” he says with a small smile, “i recognize that pretty face. sorry i bit your head off at the game. i get really intense right before we play, ‘s why the players don’t do interviews beforehand.”  
  
harry just shakes his head and holds his hand out. he can barely breathe when louis shakes it and smiles.  
  
they don’t really communicate, mostly because niall is on-air and anytime louis is talking it’s into the mic, but harry is positive all the eye contact they’re making means something.  
  
he’s more than disappointed when louis doesn’t say more than a quick “ _bye”_  as he leaves.  
  
but he moves on, mostly because he’s got to study for his exams if he wants to graduate and clench the internship he’s been working toward for the past four years. when he gets the call from niall’s boss that he’s gotten it, he cries, because he’s one step closer to being an on-air sports radio host, and his dream is so close he can taste it.  
  
two years pass and harry’s finally got his own timeslot. it’s on weekday nights and it’s only an hour and it has the least listeners of any other show on the station but he’s doing what he loves so it doesn’t bother him.  
  
and finally his big break comes in the form of his former sports-celebrity crush throwing out his knee.  
  
when news hits that louis tomlinson is officially out of the game, england is thrown for a loop. it’s only two months later, after louis’ had surgery but can still barely walk, that he announces he wants to get into sports radio.  
  
and suddenly, harry has a new co-worker.  
  
they don’t interact, because louis has the weekday morning slot now (the most prestigious position at the station, the job harry’s wanted for years now) and has been gone for about two hours before harry comes in, but harry is giddy for over a week knowing that every time he sits in his chair he’s sitting where louis tomlinson has sat.  
  
harry’s break comes when the station sets an interview with a new, up and coming football star, during harry’s slot, because the athlete couldn’t come at any other time. when he’s informed he’ll be interviewing liam payne, the player, he’s ecstatic. when he’s informed louis tomlinson will be joining him during the interview because he’s mates with liam, he stops breathing for a little bit.  
  
“harry styles,” louis grins at him. they’ve got about ten minutes before liam’s supposed to arrive, and fifteen before the show starts. “your pretty face has somehow gotten prettier over the years.”  
  
“‘s only been two years,” is all harry says. he can feel the blush heating up his cheeks.  
  
“you know,” louis says, “i listen to your show every night. even did before i started here.”  
  
harry gapes. “why?”  
  
“remembered you, i guess. anyway, i’m excited to be hosting with you tonight. if all goes well i may have to join you more often.” he winks and harry chokes. then liam payne walks in with large men behind him and louis stands and hobbles over to liam.  
  
“knee still giving you trouble?” liam asks after they’ve hugged and louis’ back in his seat. he shakes harry’s hand but barely looks away from louis. harry would be offended but he understands the feeling of being unable to tear your eyes away from louis tomlinson.  
  
“yeah,” louis groans, lifting his leg a bit in his hand and dropping it back down. “i waddle a bit when i first stand up but once i get going i’m alright. i’m still doing physical therapy and i should end up walking normally again, it’s just healing from the operation.”  
  
“really a pity what happened,” liam says, taking his own seat. “would’ve loved to play with you.”  
  
louis agrees and then it’s time to go on air. harry starts off with his usual introduction, and then announces their special guests.  
  
liam only spends twenty minutes interviewing before he has to leave, but louis stays for harry’s entire slot. toward the end, louis gets a glint in his eye.  
  
“so, harry styles,” he says, “we first met at a home game about three years ago, yeah?”  
  
harry gulps. “that’s true.”  
  
“you tried to interview me before a game, yeah?”  
  
harry clears his throat.  
  
“i thought it was weird, ‘cause everyone knows not to do that. at least, anyone who’s got a press pass.”  
  
“…right.”  
  
“and then i ran into you here at the studio, when i interviewed with the lovely mr niall horan. you were an intern at the time.”  
  
harry sees his producer’s eyebrows shoot up in confusion.  
  
“well-”  
  
“except, you didn’t become an intern until six months after that, did you, harry styles?”  
  
“you see, the thing is-”  
  
“so how, do tell, did you get a press pass?”  
  
harry blushes. “it’s possible i stole niall’s.”  
  
“but why, dear harry?” louis asks. he’s grinning and his blue eyes are sparkling and his chair is scooting closer to harry’s.  
  
“um,” he looks at his producer who just seems lost, “can we play a song or something?”  
  
everyone in the room laughs and harry vaguely hears someone say, “ _it’s not that kind of radio station, harry_ ,” but louis lets it go.  
  
“that’s okay. i’ll figure out the mystery of harry styles someday.”  
  
and then harry gets his cue to end the show.  
  
as soon as they’re off air, harry bangs his head on the table and louis laughs loudly.   
  
“come on, you little sneak,” he says, grabbing harry’s hand and pulling. “let’s go for a drink.”  
  
the drink ends up being at louis’ flat, and after two beers harry feels looser and not as nervous. he doesn’t blush this time when louis scoots close on the couch, their knees brushing, and asks about the press pass again.  
  
“why’d you steal niall’s pass?”  
  
harry can’t look in louis’ eyes when he says it so he looks at his nose instead. “i wanted to meet you.”  
  
louis leans in a little, rests his arm on the back of the couch behind harry’s head. “you were a fan?”  
  
harry chuckles softly. “you could say that.”  
  
“so  _that_  kind of fan, eh?” louis grins and harry bends his head down to stare at the lack of space between their legs. when harry doesn’t say anything, louis whispers, “i listen to your show every day.”  
  
harry glances up. louis looks as though he’s just made some type of major confession, but harry can’t figure out what it is. he looks at the sparkle in louis’ eyes and then sees him bite his lip.  
  
“do you get it?” and harry thinks he’s trying to go for exasperated but it mostly comes out breathy.  
  
“no,” harry says back, a little embarrassed and feeling dumb. but then louis’ free hand is on his shoulder and he’s moving in closer still.  
  
“i guess you could say i’m  _that_  kind of fan, too.”  
  
and then soft lips are pressed to his, and harry feels-  
  
harry feels cold. the wind is whipping and he’s wearing a warm shirt and a jacket and a hat but his nose is icy. he’s sitting next to a pretty girl, an internationally famous singer who is holding his favorite baby on earth, and all he feels is cold.  
  
he knows louis is going to a broadway show tonight with eleanor. he knows he’s having dinner tonight with taylor. she’s the best girl he’s had to do this with and the most fun he’s had on a date that’s not with louis, but he can’t ignore the hollow feeling in his chest. he’s been allowed to bring lou and tom and lux but he knows he can’t next time. he watches lux reach a little hand out toward a seal and his eye catches on the shiny badge of a police officer walking by.  
  
he remembers wanting to be a police officer as a kid and then he’s hit with the image of himself in a blue uniform, as he pulls over a speeding car-  
  
a speeding car whizzes past harry’s own police car and he immediately puts it into drive and turns his lights on, following the vehicle. it doesn’t take long before the car is pulling over and harry’s getting out, walking to the window and asking for license and registration.  
  
“i’m so sorry,” the guy says, as he digs through his glove box. harry can’t see his face but his hair is wet and his jumper looks like it’s on backwards.  
  
“in a hurry?” harry asks, and it’s meant to be sarcastic but it sounds more curious. he curses his good-natured personality not for the first time.  
  
“i really didn’t want to speed but my sister’s in the hospital and i’m not exactly thinking straight and-”  
  
“hey,” harry says calmly. the guy finally turns around and hands over his id and insurance card. harry’s breath catches at the sight of him, bright blue eyes brimmed with tears but still so pretty, soft pink lips pulled between white teeth, sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw that harry could imagine licking-  
  
“um, officer?”  
  
harry starts, and realizing he’s been staring, walks swiftly back to his car and enters the man (louis tomlinson, says his id) into the system for a warning and returns.  
  
“because of the circumstances i’ll let you off with a warning. but i need you to calm down and follow all traffic laws, okay? your family doesn’t need someone else in the hospital, too.”  
  
the guy nods and mumbles, “thank you, officer styles.”  
  
harry gapes for a moment before remembering he’s wearing a nametag.   
  
harry hands louis back his id and registration and nods, “hope your sister’s alright, mr tomlinson.”  
  
“uh,” louis says, “it’s just louis, please.”  
  
harry smiles softly. “louis, then.”  
  
and harry thinks that’s the last time he’s going to see louis tomlinson.  
  
but then he’s getting a call two days later that someone’s been brought into the station for trespassing on private city property and is requesting to see him.  
  
harry heads to the station and enters the holding room and finds a grinning louis tomlinson.  
  
“hello, officer styles,” he says.  
  
“louis,” harry greets, and he knows his confusion is showing on his face.  
  
“he’s in for trespassing?” harry asks the officer at the desk. she looks up from her paperwork and nods.  
  
“in my defense,” louis pipes up, “i didn’t know it was private property.”  
  
“there was a sign that said ‘no trespassing’,” the officer says, “you had to climb a fence to get in.”  
  
louis sighs dramatically and harry has to fight a smile because he’s so fucking cute.  
  
“so why do i need to be here?” harry asks, and louis smiles at him widely.  
  
“i requested you!”  
  
“requested me to what?”  
  
louis shrugs and looks at the officer behind the desk. she mutters something unintelligable and then says, “his mate’s on his way to pick him up.”  
  
harry nods, still confused, and sits on the bench next to louis.  
  
“why’d you want me to come?”  
  
“was scared,” louis says, looking around the otherwise empty room as though it was something terrifying. “wanted a friendly face around.”  
  
harry blushed and looked at the ground and then leaned in to whisper, “she is a bit frightening, isn’t she?”  
  
they both look at the officer filling out paperwork behind her desk and shudder.  
  
“so you’re not,” louis pauses and breathes in deep before finishing, “married, are you, officer styles?”  
  
harry’s breath catches in his throat. “um, that’s still illegal for me, so no. and you can call me harry.”  
  
“oh,” louis whispers. his eyes are bright. “‘s illegal for me too.”  
  
harry looks away to hide his smile, but he sits with louis for the hour it takes for his mate to pick him up.  
  
it’s a week later and harry gets a call on his radio requesting his presence at a local supermarket. he groans because he was on his way to the station to clock out for the day but heads there anyway.  
  
when he arrives he spots one other officer, his friend zayn, and louis. louis and zayn are leaning against the side of zayn’s cop car and zayn looks relieved when harry arrives.  
  
“louis?”  
  
“hello, harry,” he grins and waves.  
  
“what’s going on?” he asks, looking to zayn for answers.  
  
zayn groans loudly. “this guy peed on this here store. i showed up after getting the call and he said he wanted to see you. wouldn’t get in my car. and i should be off by now and he doesn’t seem particularly dangerous so i figured i’d let you take care of him.”  
  
zayn doesn’t say anything else, just grabs louis by the arm and pushes him toward harry, then gets in his cop car and drives away.  
  
louis just stands next to harry with a smile and harry shakes his head. “what’s going on?”  
  
“that cop was very intimidating. i was nervous. needed you to come save me.”  
  
harry laughs and lets his head fall into his hands.  
  
“louis, why are you committing really small crimes and requesting my presence?”  
  
louis shrugs as though he has no idea what harry’s talking about.  
  
harry rolls his eyes and grabs louis’ arm, turning him to face him directly. “do you just… do you just want to see me?”  
  
louis keeps his eyes downcast and whispers, “maybe.”  
  
“why didn’t you just say so?”  
  
“i was speeding,” he mumbles. “you’re a cop. cops don’t go on dates with law breakers.”  
  
“so you just continued to break the law? that doesn’t make sense.”  
  
“i dunno,” louis sighs. “i figured the way we met ruined any chance i would ever have, but for some reason i couldn’t stop thinking about you and i didn’t know how else to see you.”  
  
“you didn’t ruin any chance with me, louis,” harry says quietly, and louis’ head lifts up. harry’s stomach twists at the way his blue eyes look so hopeful. “you could’ve just asked for my number. you didn’t have to pee on a building to get my attention.”  
  
louis laughs, “well, i’m an actor. we’re all about grand gestures.”  
  
it’s quiet for a moment and then, “i get off as soon as i clock out at the station. want to go for dinner?”  
  
louis nods and harry smiles-  
  
harry smiles softly at louis. louis just shakes his head and crosses his arms over his chest.  
  
“c’mon, lou, it’s one night,” he pleads, “and i hear the play is really good.”  
  
“don’t care,” louis mutters. “i don’t want to go to a play with eleanor and i don’t want you to go to dinner with taylor  _fucking_  swift-”  
  
“so it’s not about you spending time with eleanor,” harry muses, “it’s about me spending time with taylor.”  
  
“no,” louis pouts.  
  
“is, too,” harry says, scooting closer and pecking louis on the nose. “i’ll be thinking about you the whole time.”  
  
“she’s pretty, harry. and she can be in public with you and it-” he breathes deeply. “it scares me. that you’ll realize the kind of thing you could have if you were with someone other than me.”  
  
“you’re absolutely mad,” harry mutters, wrapping his long arms around louis’ torso. louis falls into the embrace, head pillowed on harry’s chest. “when you first started with eleanor, i used to be so scared of that. i would spend your date nights crying because i was so terrified you’d leave me for her.”  
  
“that’s crazy, harry-”  
  
“exactly,” he interrupts. “it’s crazy. just like it’s crazy for you to think it about me and taylor. we’re always going to come out on top, okay? it’s always going to be you and me. think about one of your worlds where we’re together.”  
  
“i can’t think of anymore,” louis says softly, and he sounds sad and heartbroken, like his lack of new stories means something bad for their relationship. harry holds him closer.  
  
“we go to school together. you’re the lead in the play, you’re popular and everyone loves you.”  
  
“what about you?”  
  
“well, i’m quiet. no one really notices me.”  
  
“i notice you though, yeah?”  
  
harry smiles and pulls back enough to kiss him. he can’t get over the way louis still blushes-  
  
louis still blushes every time his name is called in english class. he’s fine on stage, fine on the football field, confident when he’s talking to his friends, but when the teacher asks him for an answer, his whole system crashes.  
  
it’s his favorite subject and he knows the words his teacher’s looking for, but he also knows that harry styles is sitting one row over and three desks back. he knows that harry’s probably looking at him right now.  
  
and that’s too much.  
  
because he and harry styles have gone to school together since they were five. they’ve had classes together their whole lives and they’ve spoken and in their younger years probably would’ve been considered friends.  
  
but they got older and harry got quiet and louis got loud.  
  
but harry also got pretty and louis got a crush.  
  
he’s tried. he’s invited harry to see him in the play. he’s invited him to football games that he’s starting in. he’s asked for help with homework for their shared english class.  
  
and harry usually just stares at him with those big green eyes like he can’t quite figure out why louis is speaking to him.  
  
but louis tries his best not to think about the love of his life sitting behind him and he stutters out the answer as best he can. life goes on.  
  
until they’re working independently on a grammar worksheet and louis can’t figure out if he’s doing a problem correctly. he gets up to ask the teacher, who’s sat at her desk in the back of the room, and when he turns his eyes immediately fall on harry.   
  
harry, who’s looking back at him.  
  
and then harry’s eyes are averting back down to his own paper, and louis can tell his pencil is gripped too tightly in his hand. and his stomach swoops and heat fills his cheeks and he doesn’t think as he walks by, just lightly brushes his hand on top of harry’s, fingers gliding over the smooth skin and it’s over as quickly as it started but it’s all louis can think about all day.  
  
the next day harry’s already in his seat when louis walks into their english classroom, and they make quick eye contact before harry’s looking down at his hands and blushing, his lips turning up at the corners.  
  
so louis makes his excuses once they’re working individually and walks back to the teacher’s desk, his hand softly brushing against harry’s again. this time he drags his fingers slower, letting them rest for half a second on the inside of harry’s wrist and he swears he can feel his heartbeat.  
  
louis spends two weeks making up reasons to walk past harry and touch his hand before he decides he needs to do something more. all he gets in response are smiles and blushes and short eye contact and now that’s he’s got this tiny piece of harry he wants _everything_. so he sits in his room one night with a piece of paper and a pen and writes a short note, asking harry to meet him on the football field after school. he debates for ten minutes whether or not to put an x next to his name. he doesn’t.  
  
the next day during english, harry bites his lip before he looks down and blushes and louis takes it as progress and a good sign, so he slips out the note and writes the x next to his name after all.  
  
it’s nearing the end of class and the teacher is still lecturing, and louis still has the note gripped tightly in his hand. he can’t stop glancing at the clock nervously, and finally the bell rings. panicking, he takes his time packing up his things, keeping an eye on harry who is standing at his seat, waiting for the crowd to pass before leaving. louis breathes in deeply and waits until harry finally walks by.  
  
“harry,” he chokes out, reaching for his arm. harry’s eyes widen and louis’ breath catches.  
  
“um, yeah?”  
  
“i,” louis stutters, “uh.”  
  
harry smiles a little bit and bites his lip. louis feels himself blushing. “um, here.”  
  
he hands over the note and gets butterflies when their hands brush. harry doesn’t open it, just sticks it in his pocket.  
  
“thanks, louis,” he says, and then he turns around and walks out. louis stands there, staring after him, until his teacher calls his name and asks what he’s doing.  
  
louis’ last class of the day is theater, so he’s closer than most everyone else to the football field when the bell rings. it’s not football season so when he steps onto the bleachers there’s no one else around.  
  
his hands are shaking and he can’t make his foot stop tapping and he almost jumps out of his skin when there’s a tap on his shoulder. he turns and sees harry standing there with his hands in the pockets of his ridiculously tight pants.  
  
“hi,” he says quietly. “um, you wanna sit down?”  
  
harry nods and takes the spot next to louis.  
  
“i’m confused, louis,” harry finally says. “i’m just… we haven’t talked in at least a year, and then all of a sudden…”  
  
louis doesn’t know how to answer, so he just says, “you make me really nervous.”  
  
harry huffs a laugh.   
  
“seriously,” he says, “my stomach’s been in knots since i wrote that note last night. i’ve been sitting here with my hands shaking. i’ve been trying to figure out the perfect words to say to you but i don’t- i don’t know what to say because i realized even though i’ve known you my whole life i don’t really  _know_  you.”  
  
“i’m not particularly interesting to know,” harry says.  
  
“i don’t think that’s true. i just want to know everything. i wanna know your favorite color and i wanna know all your different laughs and your different smiles and your different frowns. i wanna know all the shades of green your eyes turn and i wanna know how messy your hair is when you wake up. i wanna know what it feels like to hold your hand and i wanna know what your lips taste like and- god, i’m so creepy, aren’t i?”  
  
he turns to look at harry and is surprised when his eyes are glistening. louis starts to apologize but harry shakes his head, wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.  
  
“sorry,” he says with a chuckle. “that was just… completely amazing. i don’t even know what to say, really.”  
  
louis breathes out in relief. he opens his mouth to say something but harry beats him to it. “i think i’d like to know those things about you, as well.”  
  
louis feels his breath catch in his throat. “yeah?”  
  
harry smiles and louis grins at the dimple in his cheek. “yeah.”  
  
it’s quiet between them for a moment before harry says, “you can find out some of those things about me now, if you’d like.”  
  
louis can’t breathe as harry leans in closer. he closes his eyes when he feels harry’s breath on his cheek, and then, “ _my favorite color is blue_.”  
  
louis chokes and gapes and harry smirks proudly. the laugh he lets out is closer to a bark and louis swears he’s in love-  
  
louis swears he’s in love with harry a little more every time he sees him. he gets back to the hotel late and harry’s sitting on the bed in his pants, talking on the phone. his hair’s a mess and he’s laughing like a hyena and louis can’t do anything but smile and sit next to him, wrap his arms around his waist.  
  
harry jumps at the contact and says into the receiver, “hey, gem, lou just got in, i’ll call you later, yeah? …love you too, bye,” and then glares at louis’ jacket. “that thing is freezing and wet and i am warm. these are not good combinations.”  
  
louis laughs and takes off the jacket and his shoes. harry looks at him expectantly and louis rolls his eyes but takes off his trousers and shirt too. harry grins and lifts up the blankets, crawling beneath them and holding the edge up for louis to crawl in too.  
  
once he’s on the bed and cuddled into harry’s warm side, a long arm wrapped around his waist, louis sighs happily.  
  
“how was the play?” harry asks quietly. his fingertips are making patterns on louis’ spine.  
  
louis shrugs. “didn’t pay much attention.”  
  
louis presses his face against harry’s chest, his own fingers rubbing against the skin softly. harry’s lips press into his neck and he closes his eyes, drowning in the feeling.  
  
“hey, harry,” he says quietly. harry hums. “‘m really glad i met you.”   
  
he feels harry smile against his skin, and even though they both have dates with different girls tomorrow, louis’ still happy. and this world, right here in a hotel room bed in new york city in harry’s arms, is enough for him.


End file.
